


White Rose

by orphan_account



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Drabble, Fem!Canada - Freeform, Gen, first person POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-07
Updated: 2014-12-07
Packaged: 2018-02-28 12:58:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2733428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Madeleine becomes an engineer against all odds.<br/><i>In honor of White Rose week and the fourteen women who died on December 6, 1989</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	White Rose

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote this drabble to bring attention to White Rose Week. I’m going to major in Computer Science under the College of Engineering, so the École Polytechnique Massacre really hits home for me. 
> 
> December 6, 2014 was the 25th anniversary of the massacre, where fourteen women were murdered at l’École Polytechnique because they were women in engineering. The killer had been denied admission to l’École and blamed affirmative action and women for taking his spot. He told them that he hated feminists before shooting them. You can read more about the tragedy [here](http://www.upworthy.com/in-1989-a-man-murdered-14-women-at-a-canadian-school-heres-the-word-he-yelled-at-them-first?c=ufb1).
> 
> L’École Polytechnique has White Rose week to raise money to fund their Folie Technique science camp that introduces STEM (science, technology, engineering, and math) to young girls from disadvantaged communities. You can donate to the program [here](http://whiteroseweek.org/).
> 
>  ****I do not write fanfiction about real, relevant tragic events so please note that this drabble is _not_ about the massacre. ** This is a completely fictional story about Madeleine, who becomes an engineer. Please excuse inaccuracies in the Canadian/Quebec school system.

My name is Madeleine Bonnefois du Guillaumes. I was born and raised in Montreal’s affordable housing.

When I was a little girl, my Papa would work very late. He was never home before my bedtime, but that was okay. My Maman and I were a team. She was the one who let me play with Legos and toy trucks alongside my Barbies and princesses. She was the one who let me do science experiments in our kitchen, despite the mess it would leave. She was the one who read books to me, particularly my favorite stories of star travel and the future. She was the one who let me explore.

When I was twelve years old, it was obvious I didn’t enjoy sports very much. Maman had me do field hockey and ice skating, if just to get me doing something other than sitting around the library. It made Papa happy to see me skate, so I skated for his sake.

I was thirteen when my Maman was flung off the icy roads by a semi going 120 km/h.

My Papa was devastated. He took off work for six months. In that time, I saw him around more than I had over the past thirteen years combined. I think he blamed himself for losing her, for not spending time with her.

After those six months, Papa came to senses and realized that he had to care for me. I know now that he saw me--sees me, still--as part of my Maman. After all, my Maman and I were a team. However, I quickly learned that my father was a very old fashioned man.  

Papa didn’t like that I read so many books, he didn’t like that I tinkered with things, that I took apart my things to see how they worked before putting them back together again. He didn’t like that I wanted to stay after skating lessons to play pickup hockey with the boys.

He made me feel like everything I did was wrong.

Upon entering high school, I did everything I could to make Papa happy with me, to make him acknowledge me and be proud of me. I continued to figure skate, keeping my little pickup hockey games a secret, I joined cooking club and choir, and I kept my grades up as high as they could be.

Although I thought Papa would be pleased that I skipped a level in mathematics and was allowed to take a an additional invitation-only science course, he was not.

Maman would still want me to excel, right?

My geometry teacher, Mme Dubois, was the one to pull me aside and talk to me about my life goals. She was a kind woman with a warm smile. I really liked her. When I told her I didn’t know what I wanted to be when I grew up, her face lit up. She wanted me to look into engineering. She seemed so excited that I let her gush about how she was going to take me to visit l’École Polytechnique de Montréal and sign me up for programs. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that my father would not approve.

Lucky for Mme Dubois, I was feeling particularly rebellious, considering Amélie had invited me to watch the Canadiens vs Leafs game that Friday, so I figured that lying to Papa about one more thing wouldn’t hurt. Amélie would cover me if I told him I was extending our sleepover.

Mme Dubois had old college friends who went on to become professors at l’École. I was surprised to meet them, considering they were all women. Papa had drilled into me that women were to stay home and raise children, not go out and tinker with things. That was the moment when I realized my potential.

I went home and apologized to my Papa without explaining why. He found out a few weeks later.

Papa was drinking. He drank regularly after Maman died, but this time? He was really drinking. I could tell when I saw the empty bottle of wine, the bottle that he and Maman had preserved since their wedding day. I knew this was bad and I tried to turn around and leave the moment I saw. Amélie would let me stay until Papa calmed down, I was sure.

“Madeleine, come here.”

I had sealed my death sentence.

“I thought we straightened this out already.”

“Papa, please, it’s my passion-”

“Hush, Madeleine. Listen to me. I will not allow my only daughter to follow such a path. You’re a young woman, mon fille, not a boy.”

“But Papa-”

“Madeleine!”

“No, Papa! You’re wrong. You’re horribly, horribly wrong. Maman would have wanted this-”

“-Don’t bring Marianne into this nonsense!”

“-for me. Maman always encouraged this. And you? You’re ruining everything Maman worked towards, everything she wanted for me. You’re selfish and disgusting.”

And that was the last time I saw my Papa.

I had just turned seventeen by then. I was to attend CÉGEP in the fall. Amélie’s family took me in after that.

My acceptance into l’École two years later was a miracle. I decided to study Ingénierie de Électrique. I was on a full-ride scholarship. It was incredible.

Amélie was also accepted, studying Ingénierie de Logiciel. As a best friend team of an electrical and software engineer, we didn’t have too much trouble with our startup.

My story from there isn’t too exciting. Amélie and I had our issues now and then. Technical bumps, finding investors willing to take two young women seriously. I remember one time when we brought our prototype into a hackathon--covered in a sheet to protect our intellectual property, of course--a guy looked over and thought we brought in cookies. For them. We were both offended but I think Amélie was more upset at the fact that we didn’t have cookies for ourselves, even. I swear that Amélie would have become a pastry chef if not an engineer. I guess that was the extent of our troubles because once we got up and running, no one cared who made the product, as long as it worked well and to their needs. It was smooth sailing from there.

I do miss my Maman something awful and I hope one day to track down my father and make amends but for now, I’m very focused on my career and my company. It’ll happen when it does, but Amélie is like a sister to me and her family took me in and still treat me like their second daughter to this day. I do have a fiancé, as some of the tabloids may have mentioned, but he is also second to my company and very well aware of it. I’ve given up a lot for it, after all.

My name is Madeleine Bonnefois du Guillaumes. I am one of the ten wealthiest people in Canada.


End file.
